


Beginning at the End

by Jaina (effervescible)



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship, F/M, Multi, Post-Post-Apocalypse, Robot Mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 04:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13046655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effervescible/pseuds/Jaina
Summary: Legacies are a tricky thing. With HADES long since defeated, Aloy takes one more million-to-one shot.





	Beginning at the End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nemonus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemonus/gifts).



> This was written prior to completing The Frozen Wilds DLC and may not be compliant with it.

i.  
There's a stalker at her back, and Aloy doesn't mind at all.

The proximity mine is half-buried beneath the snow, but she's long since learn to keep a sharp eye out for the faint glow and the near-silent hum that's only discernible if you get too close and risk triggering the mine itself. That doesn't happen today; one strike of a sharpshot arrow in the right spot and it's disabled.

That leaves two of them: one predator built to be that way and one who learned. She could say that it puts them on even ground, but it doesn't. She could consider whether thinking that way makes her arrogant, but it isn't. She's spent too many hours tracing the paths of their hunting grounds, learned their patterns too well. She isn't afraid.  
The snow begins to fall again as she continues her trek. The gap in the air where snowflakes should land appears right before the faint distortion of light caused by the cloaking generator. It's off to the side, in the perfect position for an ambush—about what she expected. 

Aloy doesn't smile as she dodges and rolls from the sudden, snarling attack, but something in her blood sings as she immediately draws and nocks another arrow. The small part of her mind that stays separate from the now of a fight makes her wonder if she gets that from Elisabet, who never saw a fight like this but faced worse challenges daily.

If she did, she thinks she doesn't mind that either.

Not much time later, the stalker is dead, one of its sinews tucked away in Aloy's bag. Erend's been talking about a new kind of weapon the Vanguard is trying that can use them. That comes later, though. She has an appointment to keep, even if she's the only one who knows about it.

Like the mind, the bunker door is tucked away, farther up the steep slope. Of course it's not an easy trek to get here; she'd expect nothing less. Her heart rate picks up a little as she approaches in a way that's very different from what happens in a fight with a machine. It's not nervousness—anticipation, maybe, of the reunion to come and, doubtless, the irritation that will come with it.

She doesn't have to be here. It's entirely possible that she'll regret coming. As smart as he is and as much as he knows, there's no guarantee that what she wants to try will be more easily accomplished by two than by one. Either way, it's a long shot.

But along with the frustration and the arguments she recalls, Aloy remembers the sense of challenge just talking to him gave her. It was the same feeling she got facing down a herd of tramplers—and harder, in some ways. She could take down the machines quickly; winning an argument (if she ever really had) was harder.

She's not sure that she's missed him. But she's felt his absence. Funny, how it can persist for longer than she ever knew him.

There's no lock attuned to her genetic signature at the door. If there's a lock at all, it's been purposely disabled, because down the hall there's a room that's clearly been repurposed as a lab, with schematics and machine parts scattered about the workspace, and the man she's here to see shows no surprise when he turns to look at her.

"Aloy," Sylens says, giving her a nod. "It's been a while."

Three years since she climbed another snow-covered mountain meet him, but it kind of feels like five minutes ago. On the outside, he hasn't changed; if anything, his eyes are sharper than ever. He's sorting through a pile of small components she doesn't recognize, and after that first moment of greeting, he's not even looking at her.

"Sylens," she says. "Turns out it wasn't our last meeting after all."

"Yes, though in retrospect I'm not surprised that you tracked me down. Achieving the unexpected and extraordinary is what you do, isn't it?" He bends over the work table, reaching for a larger piece. "I assume you had a good reason for tracking me down."

"I want you to help me with something," she says. "A project. Something that could do some real good for the world."

He chuckles, and oh yeah. There's that flash of irritation she's familiar with. "You think too well of me, Aloy. I'm not so altruistic."

"Really." She crosses her arms. "Is that why you helped me stop HADES? A lack of altruism?"

"Of course not. Self-interest was large factor," he says. "But the world is no longer in peril. I have work to see to here, and I suspect that you've been doing well for yourself. 

There's little I could help you with that you couldn't accomplish on your own."

He still has a way of making a compliment sound like an insult, and the way he continues on with whatever he was doing, it's like what she has to say can't possibly be as important. She opens her mouth to give a quick retort, but closes it, her gaze locked on him. The circumstances that made them allies are gone, but to say Sylens is incurious is like saying a thunderjaw is friendly. There's another door at the back of this lab, she notes. This one is locked, heavily.

There's no way he doesn't care about why she came here. But putting distance between her and whatever his project is is more important, apparently.

"Maybe I can," she says. "But it'll take a lot longer that way." She takes a step forward and steadies herself. "I want to rebuild GAIA."

Sylens' head snaps up.

ii.

The first time she stepped into a cauldron, Aloy felt like a ghost. She'd heard stories passed around campfires outside the sundom about lost spirits who'd fallen into shadow and didn't understand the sunlit world anymore. Meant to scare and thrill more than anything—stories about extra-tough and extra-frightening Snapmaws were much more practical.  
There was so much she didn't know then, when wending her way to the heart of the machine that made machines was like stepping into another world for the first time. There's still so much she doesn't know, she thinks to herself as she drops down from a ledge to the central alcove here the most sensitive equipment is. But there's more that she can do about it now.

"I'm finished up there," she says, striding toward Sylens with a brisk pace. "How's it going here?"

"Well, I think," he says, turning to her with what might be an actual, sincere smile. It's still a little unnerving. "Another month or two and we may be ready to begin."

"Good." She looks up to the top of the segment he's been working on and rests her hand flat against cool metal, like the physical connection might tell her something. If she were a machine, maybe it would.

For a long moment, they're both quiet. It's almost companionable.

"I owe you an apology, Aloy," he says at last, and that's more than enough to get her attention.

"What for?" The skepticism is obvious in her voice—not about the idea that he'd owe her one, but that he'd admit it.

"I assumed your quest for knowledge was limited to that of your heritage," he says. "HADES is no longer a threat. You're aware of how you came to exist. I didn't expect you to try to regain access to the knowledge GAIA had."

Even a compliment is a backhanded insult, even if he doesn't mean it that way. Of course. She lets out a small huff. "Just because I didn't found a cult to learn everything I wanted doesn't mean I don't care," she says. "You don't know me as well as you think."

He just looks at her. "Perhaps I don't."

There's something in his gaze that she can't read, intense and a little unnerving and almost intriguing. She doesn't look away.

"For all the centuries between you, you do take after your mother," he says at last. "Though I suppose that was the point."

"Which one, the human or the robot?" He laughs, and something within her is pleased. "I'm not Elisabet," she says. "She saved the world and gave us the tools to save ourselves again. I'm just trying to pick up some of the pieces."

He regards her for a moment, gaze steady. "Tell me, Aloy. Why pursue this? You've gained allies in every tribe. You could live well without a thought for the past, now that you know where you come from."

This time, she does look away. "Because it shouldn't have ended like that," she says. "There's no getting back some of what was lost. But GAIA brought us this far." She's quiet for a moment. "I'd like to thank her."

"Perhaps you will." He looks up at the heart of the cauldron. "Perhaps we both will."

For a moment, she feels a step closer to him. Like they've shared an actual, emotional moment. It feels strange.

"Maybe I owe you one too," she says, but she doesn't really mean it. "I thought that, even if I found you, you might not be willing to try this. The odds aren't in our favour."

"Which has rarely ever stopped you," he says. "With all that we stand to learn? I'd be a fool to turn my back."

"APOLLO is still purged," she says. "And GAIA…might not be as she once was, even if we pull it off. You might wish you hadn't wasted your time."

"It's a possibility," he acknowledges. "But I won't be dictated by the odds either. And the time we've spent making the effort has been…enlightening."

She's not sure what to make of that. "So," she says. "Break time over?"

He nods. "Let's continue."

iii.

When the day comes, it turns out to be the summer solstice. It's a coincidence—there's no grand ceremony to be held, no audience to accommodate. It's just the only two people in the world who understand what they're trying to do, much less the significance of what could come after.

There must be incredible celebrations going on in Meridian. She's been to a few since the city rebuilt the damage from the battle around the spire, always as Avad's honored guest, and appreciated them. They're different from the Nora traditions, and don't bring on that lingering, echoing ache of having wanted to be a part of them for so many years. 

Maybe that's why she doesn't miss them now, even if she misses the people holding them.

Or maybe she's just spent too many months down in the cauldrons with Sylens, turning their capabilities into foundries for something greater than mindless machines.  
Alloy takes some time by herself in the heart of GAIA Prime, which still looks like a ruin from the outside but shows signs of life from within. If this works, GAIA won't be restored to what she was. That will—would—take years. But a Nora brave who's lost a limb on a hunt is no less herself. If GAIA was made in humanity's image, can't the same be said for her?

"Are you ready?"

She jumps. She hadn't even heard Sylens come up behind her, which says more about her preoccupation than it does his stealth. "As I'll ever be." She turns to him. "Are you?"

"As I'll ever be," he says. "We've done all we can, and considerably more. If this doesn't bring GAIA back, I doubt anything can."

"If this doesn't bring GAIA back, I keep trying," she says, and cocks her head when he gives a faint chuckle. "What?"

"Nothing," he says, stepping away. "Shall we?"

It isn't like flipping a switch. Sections of the facility are brought online one at a time, power coursing through old hardware and new pieces recreated based on the old. ALoy thinks she smells smoke and hopes it's nothing more than heat and dust.

The computers spark to life. Everything's humming and whirring and for a long time there's nothing, and she thinks—what does she know about restoring life to an artificial intelligence powerful enough to recreate the world? She has less than half of the knowledge and none of the training.

But there's a shimmer of holographic lighting and then she's _there_ \--GAIA, as she remembers from the recordings, only more vivid. Aloy thinks to herself—she looks tired. Was it the coming back or being gone for twenty years that was hard?

The gaze of an intangible being settles upon her, focuses, and her expression shifts into something like recognition.

"I'm not Elisabet," Aloy blurts out, immediately feeling stupid. No one would think she was. "I'm Aloy. You—you made me."

"I did," GAIA says. "I was right. You found a way in. You stopped HADES." How many milliseconds did it take for her to reason that out? The site is well enough lit to work, but no one could call it sunny. Maybe that's why the smile that blooms on GAIA's face feels like it lights up the room. "Thank you."

There's something familiar in the smile, and it takes a few seconds to click—different people, different ways of existing, but that's the smile Rost used to give her when he was proud.

GAIA looks down at her hands for a moment, and that small movement makes Aloy wonder at how Elisabet and the other ancients were able to create something so human. She doesn't even really have a body. "I did not expect to exist again."

"It's because of her efforts," Sylens says, stepping forward. She'd almost forgotten he's here.

"This is Slyens," she says, gesturing to him. "He's—a friend." The words feel strange in her mouth when they're about him, but it doesn't taste like a lie.

He bows, deeply. She wouldn't have thought he had that much humility in him. "It is an honor to speak with you, GAIA. I have many questions for you."

Aloy shoots him a look—she's no politeness expert, but it seems overly blunt to lead off with that. Except of course he does, of course they both do.

"And I for you," GAIA says. "I can intuit the manner of your success against HADES but not the means. And I would like to know more about you."

Is that the natural response from a being essentially made of information? Or because of who she is? "I don't know where to start," Aloy says, and finds herself wringing her hands like a child again. "There's so much to talk about."

GAIA smiles. "Start at the beginning."

iv. 

It turns out that along with being the instrument of Earth's second chance at life and Aloy's own existence, GAIA is a really good listener. It's awkward at first, at least for her. What GAIA did is so _big_ that it hangs between them, stilling her tongue.

But GAIA listens, and smiles encouragingly, asks questions the right questions in the right way, and it stops feeling like conversation with a godlike AI and more like conversation with—

Well. She's never had a mother. But maybe it's like that.

It doesn't happen all at once. There's too much to cover and still much work to do even after GAIA has been brought back online. Towards the end of one afternoon, Aloy finds herself alone with GAIA, which could be Sylens showing some rare sensitivity or just an intolerance for girl talk. So to speak.

"I was angry, for a while," she says, seated on the floor, legs crossed. A coil of wire, a pile of shards and a few other tools are placed neatly around her. It's easier to talk when she can do something with her hands. "I'd wanted to know about my mother for so long—who she was, why she didn't want me, why it was a secret. When I found out the truth, it felt like who _I_ was didn't even matter."

"Yes. That is understandable, considering the matriarchal structure of the tribe that grew from the cradle," GAIA says, the straightforward, logical response of an AI offset somewhat by the fact that she is seated across from Aloy in a mirrored position. If she's not really 'there', why not? "But you didn't turn your back on what had to be done."

Aloy smiles and strings another arrow. "I couldn't," she says. "Like you said—it had to be done. Too many lives were at stake."

"I am glad that you did." GAIA places a hand over hers, and even though she can't feel the photons and electrons that make up her visual form, it makes something untwist in Aloy's chest. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why did you bring me back?"Aloy couldn't begin to read the expression on GAIA's face if it were a human asking that kind of question, much less an AI. "It took an immense deal of effort, but it was not necessary. You had already achieved my last request and humanity is thriving. My existence is not as critical as it once was."

Aloy lets out a long breath. "That might be true, but there's a lot of good you could still do, if we can keep rebuilding and extend your access to the rest of the world," she says after a moment. "And there's a lot we can still learn from you. A lot of things I'd like to know. And…I wanted to talk to you, if I got the chance."

She sits back on her hands. "All the records and recordings I found, they told me about the past, but the communication only went one way," she says. "But you might still exist, or could. It was worth trying."

"You did what Elisabet would have done," GAIA says. "I hope this does not distress you to hear."

"Not about that, no." She's quiet for a moment. "What would she have thought of me?" 

Instead of an answer, GAIA extends a hand. "Allow me to show something to you."

She gives a little wave, and then a small holo-screen appears in front of them, except it's drawn from GAIA instead of an emitter. It shows GAIA and Elisabet, a familiar sight by now.

_"Elisabet, I would like to know something."_

_"Of course. You can ask me anything, GAIA."_ She sounds tired, and Aloy wonders how close to the end this was.

_"Several of the Alphas have recorded personalized messages for future generations. Is there a reason you have not?"_

For a moment, she smiles. _"Time, for starters. There's too much to do and not enough time to do it. But I suppose it's also because I don't have anything to say._

_"I doubt that very much."_

_"You know me too well. It's…I suppose it's not that I don't have anything to say. It's that I don't have the words. You're the only one of us who will see the results of what we're doing here, GAIA. For the rest of us, it's an act of faith."_ She squares her shoulders and though it's hard to tell through the digital recreation, it appears as though she's looking off into space, into the future. All the way to right now. _"A few personalized words from me wouldn't make a difference. We're giving them the tools they need to do better than we did. I'm going to have faith that they will."_ She lifts her eyes to look at GAIA-as-she-was. _"Do you understand?"_

_"I believe I do."_

The recording ends and fades away.

"I think she would be proud of you," GAIA says quietly.

After a moment, Aloy looks over at her. "I once said to Sylens that I didn't have a mother. He told me I had two," she says. "I'm glad I got to meet one of you."

v.

It's late when Aloy makes her way to the room Sylens has turned into his quarters and finds him filling a travel pack. "You're leaving?" It shouldn't surprise her or bother her. What they've done here might be an incredible accomplishment, but she doesn't doubt that he still has secrets and goals of his own.

But he's also the only human being still alive who understands the significance of their work here. He might be the only one who understands her, too.

"Aloy." He stands, not looking especially surprised or nervous to have been caught. "Not yet. But soon. There are some things I need to see to."

"But you'll come back." It's not a question.

"Of course." He nods. "There is much to be done here, and I haven't spoken with GAIA nearly enough. You'll see me again without having to track me down."

"Good."

"Is it?" He cocks his head. "I'd expect you and GAIA would scarcely notice my absence. I'm certain she's pleased to be able to work with you again."

Aloy lets out an annoyed huff. "I'm not Elisabet," she reminds him again. Then she steps into the room, crosses the space between them and kisses him.

Early the next morning, she finds a spot near pounded-down tracks through the snow and waits. A machine will be by soon enough, she thinks, but her position could make her the ambusher or the ambushed, and she won't know until it happens.

That's fine, Aloy thinks to herself. She's where she needs to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm quite certain that even partially rebuilding GAIA would be much, much more difficult than depicted here. However, yuletide magic and the ability to be vague on how specifically it was done are quite powerful in combination. Happy Yuletide.


End file.
